


Never Break the Shape We'll Take

by lco123



Category: Booksmart (2019)
Genre: F/F, bit of a slow burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-03
Updated: 2019-06-13
Packaged: 2020-04-07 10:43:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19083415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lco123/pseuds/lco123
Summary: Frankly, in the aftermath of a year spent hardcore crushing on Ryan, followed by an exhilarating but ultimately unsuccessful night with Hope, she’s looking forward to a break. To a full year of turning off that part of her brain, putting her head down, and getting to work.Five girls Amy kisses after graduation.





	1. Emma

**Author's Note:**

> How obsessed with Booksmart am I? Have I:
> 
> a) seen it in theaters four times (so far)?  
> b) recorded a nearly two hour episode about it on what is ostensibly a [PLL podcast](https://anchor.fm/everybodyapod) with my friend and cohost [speakpirate](https://archiveofourown.org/users/speakpirate/)?  
> c) written 4,000 words of a [PLL Booksmart AU](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18982138/chapters/45072871)?  
> d) am now starting a multi-chapter fic about Amy's queer exploits?  
> e) all of the above.
> 
> (I think we all know what the answer is, my friends. It's e.)

Amy truly isn’t expecting anything even vaguely romantic to happen to her in Botswana. Frankly, in the aftermath of a year spent hardcore crushing on Ryan, followed by an exhilarating but ultimately unsuccessful night with Hope, she’s looking forward to a break. To a full year of turning off that part of her brain, putting her head down, and getting to work.

Which is why it’s incredibly shocking when, three months into her stay, her host mother says that it’s time to add another cot to Amy’s room. A new girl is arriving, Amy quickly learns. Emma, from London.

At first, Amy is excited, if a little thrown. She’s loved her time in Botswana, but it’s been a bit lonely, between the language barrier and the lack of interaction with anyone her own age. Obviously no one is going to replace Molly, but Amy wouldn’t mind making a friend for the remainder of her time here.

And then she meets Emma. And it’s like _fuck_.

Emma arrives early in the morning, completely jet lagged, sweaty from the long flight and dragging her suitcase behind her. She seems slightly out of it, honestly, though Amy knows that she wasn’t in much better shape when she arrived.

Still, it doesn’t matter. Amy is instantly smitten, that familiar jangly feeling coursing through her veins in a way she hasn’t experienced in months. Emma is just a bit taller than Amy, and curvier, with short dark hair, delicate features, and huge eyes behind her square-framed glasses. Amy likes to think of herself as worldly enough to not be charmed by a British accent, but she quickly realizes that she’s fooling herself when Emma starts talking about her trip.

“The flight was so long,” Emma tells Amy as they make their way to their room. “But _exciting_ , you know?”

Amy does know. She likes that Emma sees it that way, that after fifteen-plus hours in the sky she can still have a positive outlook.

“What made you decide to come here?” Amy asks.

Emma flops down on her cot and peels off her light jacket. Her T-shirt underneath is nearly plastered to her body, and Amy works very hard to keep her gaze above boob-level.

“It sounds trite,” Emma says. “But I really did just want to help. I’m lucky, in so many ways.”

“I totally get what you mean,” Amy agrees, sitting down on her own cot opposite Emma’s.

“Is that why you came?”

“More or less,” Amy replies. “I felt like I needed to experience something before college other than just…my life.”

Emma nods approvingly. “We are on the same page, there.”

“You’re taking a gap year?”

Emma slowly combs her fingers through her hair. An action which Amy has always found weirdly alluring. “Yes. And, um, if I’m being honest…”

“Yeah?” Amy prompts.

Emma sighs. “I had a bad breakup right before school ended. Got my heart totally fucking smashed to pieces by a girl I’d loved for years. So it’s nice to be away.” She shakes her head, chuckling softly. “Which I know makes me sound like some kind of shitty, _Eat Pray Love_ white person—”

“No!” Amy cuts her off, her brain still swirling around Emma’s casual reveal of her ex’s gender. “I mean, maybe. But I understand.”

Emma flashes a smile. “You do?”

Amy thinks this might be a test. Like, a gay-specific one.

“Totally,” she replies, even though she has no ex to speak of.

Emma leans back against her cot, smile still firmly in place. “Cool. Well, I’m gonna take a rest. And then maybe you can show me around.”

“Oh, uh,” Amy stutters. “This is kinda it. I mean, in terms of, like, our room.”

Emma shrugs. “I’m sure you’ll find something to show me.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Amy nods, way too quickly. “Definitely.”

The next couple of weeks pass in basically the same manner, Emma being kind and maybe a little flirtatious, and Amy consistently finding ways to make herself look like an absolute fucking idiot. The nighttime is the worst; Amy gets so self-conscious of her own breathing just a few feet away from Emma that she can’t get to sleep until well after Emma’s nodded off.

But amazingly, Emma doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, she actually seems to _like_ Amy, though in what way, Amy still isn’t sure.

“ _Dude,”_ Molly starts off one day during their weekly twenty-minute phone chat. The service is spotty, but Amy’s mostly gotten used to it. “Seriously. You gotta make a move. She’s queer, and she sounds cute and nice, and you’re sharing a room, for fuck’s sake! Just push your little cots together and get in there!”

Amy shuts her eyes tightly. “I don’t think I want to know what you mean by ‘in there.’”

Molly sighs. “I could not have been more clearly referring to her vagina. C’mon, Ling Ling will forgive you. In fact, she’ll probably be grateful to have a night off.”

“Jesus, Mol,” Amy mutters. “I’m not doing _that_ with Emma right next to me.”

“But you kinda want to, don’t you?”

Amy shakes her head to no one. Emma is working with a group of tween girls today, and Amy’s shift with them starts in a few hours. Emma has taken to this work wonderfully. The teen girls love her, and Amy can see why. Emma is a natural teacher, warm and light-hearted, but she takes her work seriously.

“Is this about Hope?” Molly asks.

Amy’s stomach flips at the name. “What?”

“Well, she gave you her number, right? Do you feel loyal to her, or something?”

“She’s, like, a million miles away,” Amy replies. It’s the party line she’s been repeating to herself whenever she can’t get Hope’s pretty smile out of her mind.

“She is,” Molly agrees. “And I don’t think anyone expected you to stay celibate for a whole year.”

“I’ve been celibate for the past eighteen,” Amy points out. “What’s one more?”

“Not entirely true,” Molly corrects. “I think Hope’s butthole would like to have a word with that statement.”

Amy smacks a hand against her forehead. “You’re never going to stop bringing that up, are you?”

“Maybe if you had more hookup stories to choose from, I wouldn’t _have_ to keep bringing it up.” Molly giggles, but then her tone turns more serious: “Ame. You deserve to have a little fun. And if it feels good, and is safe and consensual, what’s the problem?”

Amy doesn’t say anything, so Molly adds, “I know how much you hate it when I’m right about this stuff, so I’m just going to give you some parting advice—”

“I think I know what you’re going—”

“Look before you put it in this time,” Molly says sagely. “Just a li’l tip from me to you.”

“Yep.” Amy nods. “That was exactly what I knew you’d say.”

It takes another few weeks for anything more to happen. And then one night, just as Amy is starting to wonder if Emma has fallen asleep, Emma calls over to her, “You awake?”

“Yes,” Amy answers, but her voice is weirdly scratchy, so she clears her throat and repeats the word.

Emma turns on her portable nightlight. Amy blinks a couple of times, adjusting to the surprisingly bright light.

“What’s up?” Amy asks.

Emma flips onto her side and props her head on her arm so that she’s facing Amy. “I should ask you the same question.”

Amy mirrors Emma’s movements so that she can look more directly at her. Emma’s eyebrows are raised and a smirk is tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“I, um,” Amy gulps.

“You’re really adorable.”

Amy is certain that the room is bright enough for Emma to clock her growing blush. “Thanks. You are, too. Like.” She isn’t quite sure how to land that compliment, settling on, “Yeah, y’know.”

“Y’know?” Emma’s tone is definitely bemused. She pushes herself up off the cot, moving from lying to standing to suddenly sitting on the edge of Amy’s cot in one fluid movement.

“Can I kiss you?” she asks.

Amy doesn’t have words available to her in this moment, so she nods. Emma leans forward and captures Amy’s mouth. They kiss slowly, experimentally. The kiss seems to deepen and unfold in its own time. Emma’s hands drift from Amy’s face to her hips, urging them upward, and before Amy knows it she’s straddling Emma.

Emma laughs as they break apart, probably because Amy’s quick movement knocked her back on the cot. “Sorry!” Amy says quickly, already feeling a familiar panic starting to rise.

Emma shakes her head. “You have nothing to apologize for.” She readjusts under Amy and pulls her close, kissing her again, this time with less hesitation.

Amy likes the way Emma’s tongue slides against hers. She thinks, fleetingly, about Hope, because that’s the only experience she has to compare to this one. A stab of something—guilt, maybe—runs through her, but she has to push it away. This feels too good not to.

But when Emma’s hands slide up under the back of Amy’s shirt, Amy stiffens. Immediately Emma retracts her hand. “Too fast?”

“No,” Amy tells her. “No. I just—I haven’t—I might not know what I’m doing.”

Emma bites her lip. “That’s okay. We can take it slow.”

“I don’t.” Amy cuts herself off again, rolling her eyes up to the ceiling. Her heart is in her throat. _Goddammit_ , she thinks. _Just spit it out_. “I don’t want to go slow. I mean, I want to figure this out. I just don’t know if I’ll be, um. Good at it.”

Emma, miraculously, seems to find that declaration charming. “Well,” she says softly. “How about if I go first? Show you the ropes, maybe? I’m not, like, an expert, but I know a couple of things.”

“Yeah?” Amy exhales. “You wouldn’t mind?”

Emma takes Amy’s hands and threads their fingers together. “ _Mind_?” she echoes. “Amy, I’ve been thinking about touching you for weeks.”

The dizziness hits Amy like a lightening bolt, but she’s determined to push through. “Oh. Well. Okay, then,” she says weakly.

“Okay?” Emma confirms.

“Yes. _Yes_.”

Emma chuckles. “Hopefully you’ll be saying that a lot more tonight.”

(Emma is right: Amy does. So loudly at one point that Emma has to stuff a pillow in her mouth. And when it comes time for Amy to do her part, she actually does it. Her geometry is sound. She doesn’t throw up. Emma has to guide her a little bit, but it actually kind of makes the experience even hotter.

Amy tells Molly about it the next day, and she’s pretty sure that even if they weren’t on the phone, she’d be able to hear Molly’s shriek of delight from halfway across the world.)


	2. Danae

“Uh, Amy?”

Amy looks up at the sound of Molly’s voice. It definitely isn’t quiet in the coffee shop, but she’s been so focus on filling out summer internship applications that she’s mostly tuned out any additional noise.

“Yeah?”

Molly does the thing with her eyebrows that means she’s about to reveal something juicy.

“The barista is totally staring at you.”

Amy frowns. The two of them are tucked into a side table at the corner of the coffee shop, Amy facing away from the counter. They only have a few more days before Molly has to head back to New Haven, and Amy’s been trying to give Molly a full sense of her life in New York. This coffee shop—with its funky vibe, vegan scones, and gender-neutral bathrooms—has been one of Amy’s favorite spots ever since she started college a couple months ago.

“Tim is gay,” Amy points out. “And so am I, so—“

Molly flaps an exasperated hand through the air. “There was a shift change. And the new girl totally has eyes for you. Look!”

Amy swivels around as subtly as possible, seeing a familiar face at the counter. Not exactly staring, but glancing over at them. 

Amy smiles. “That’s Danae.”

 _“Oh?_ ” Molly says with interest. “Tell me about this Danae!”

Amy turns back to Molly. “There isn’t anything to tell.” 

It’s the truth, mostly. Danae is a junior at NYU and she works here on the weekends. She and Amy don’t really know each other, but they chat most days Amy is in. 

Well, Danae chats, and Amy tries to keep up. Danae is one of those people who seems effortlessly cool. She’s smart and aware of the world, with an acerbic wit that frequently makes Amy choke on her coffee.

And she’s hot. There’s no point in denying it. Danae doesn’t wear makeup, but her brown skin always looks perfect, nonetheless. She’s taller than Amy, and muscular, with huge dimples and a tongue piercing. When they talk, Amy finds her eyes volleying between Danae’s dimples and her tongue.

Molly scoots her chair a little closer to Amy’s. “If you try to tell me that girl isn’t into girls, I’m throwing you out the window.”

Amy huffs out a nervous chuckle. Molly is right. Even Amy—who’s pretty sure she has whatever the opposite of gaydar is—knows that there’s no way Danae is straight. Her hair is buzzed short right now and dyed in rainbow stripes, and she has a “ _Fuck the patriarchy_ ” tattoo on her left bicep.

“She’s hot,” Amy acknowledges.

Molly nods. “Yes, hot, and clearly into you. Why don’t you ask her out?”

Amy sighs. Truly, this isn’t the first time the thought has occurred to her. In fact, she’s pretty sure Danae has been trying to ask _her_ out for the better part of a month, though Amy always jumps in nervously to ask for the bathroom key before Danae can get the words out.

“I don’t know,” Amy says weakly.

Molly shakes her head. “Dude, do you realize how much of a pussy hound you could be if you just embraced it?”

“Oh my god, don’t say _pussy hound_ ,” Amy mutters. “Especially not here. They’ll probably kick you out for being problematic.”

“But if I’m using it in a queer way, doesn’t that reclaim it from its potentially misogynistic roots?”

“You’re not even queer!”

Molly shrugs. “I wouldn’t be so black and white.”

Amy raises an eyebrow. “What? Something I don’t know?”

Molly waves a hand dismissively. “Never mind. We’re getting off track. How are we going to improve your confidence, here? Because I have some ideas.”

Amy takes a sip of her coffee as a stalling tactic. “It’s not that. I mean, maybe it’s partially that, but…”

She trails off, though Molly clearly follows her train of thought. 

“Hope?” Molly prompts.

Amy deflates. “I know it’s stupid that I can’t let that go. Like, clearly it wasn’t supposed to happen, or whatever. Our timing was off.”

“It’s not stupid,” Molly says gently. “She was your sort-of first. That means something. And I love you so much that I’m not even going to bring up the butthole thing right now.”

“Your restraint is awe-inspiring,” Amy deadpans.

“Seriously, though, Ame, nothing even really happened, right? After you got back from Botswana?”

“No,” Amy confirms. “She was still on her trip, and we said maybe we’d try to see one another, but then school started, and it just…never happened.”

“She’s at Bennington,” Molly points out. “That’s not _so_ far away.”

“It’s far enough,” Amy comments. “Besides, what did we even have? One night that ended badly?”

“Okay, so then you should move on.” Molly grins. “Preferably with a sexy barista with a tongue piercing.”

Amy presses her knuckles to her lips and widens her eyes. “Omigod, you noticed that, right?”

Molly waggles her eyebrows again. “Hard to miss. Don’t you wonder what that would feel like on your—”

“Yes,” Amy admits, lowering her forehead to her hands. “It happens to be all I wonder about whenever I see her.”

“You nasty fucking bitch!” Molly squeals delightedly. Her expression suddenly grows more serious. “Incoming.”

Amy turns in her chair to see Danae coming toward her with a mug in hand. “Hey, Amy. Nice to see you.”

“It’s really great to see you, too,” Amy manages to get out.

Danae sets the mug down in front of Amy. “I brought you another latte, and can I grab something for your friend?”

“Thank you, she’ll have a—”

“ _Am-y_!” Molly cuts in deliberately. “There’s a heart on your latte!” She looks up at Danae. “That is just so sweet!”

Danae glances between the two of them, smiling. “Well, Amy’s one of our favorite customers.” Her tone is a little lower than is necessary, and it makes Amy’s stomach flip.

“And you’re the best…latte-maker!” Amy adds with a bit too much exuberance. “Even though I know you don’t, like, roast the beans yourself, or…”

“Cappuccino!” Molly interjects, mercifully. “I’ll have a cappuccino!”

Danae snaps her fingers. “Coming right up.”

"Heart art on the latte,” Molly remarks as soon as Danae’s out of earshot. “Gotta say, it’s a nice touch.”

“She probably does that for everyone,” Amy murmurs.

“Oh, don’t start that again,” Molly insists. “She was practically undressing you with her eyes.”

“You think?”

“I _know_.”

Amy lets out a slow breath. She considers the girl she was in high school, so paralyzed by awkwardness and uncertainly that she sabotaged herself from fully enjoying life.

She doesn’t want to be that girl anymore.

She _isn’t_ that girl anymore.

“Okay,” Amy says, firmly planting her hands on the table and rising to stand. “I’m going to talk to her.”

Molly shakes her fists in a celebratory gesture. “Yes! Go get her, girl!”

Amy approaches the counter. “Um,” she says to Danae.

A _great_ start. 

Thankfully, the only person waiting on a drink is Molly, who Danae must know is all too happy for this conversation to take place, because Danae pauses from her task of pouring milk. She grins, which makes her dimples look especially cute. “What’s up, Amy?”

“I was just wondering, um, if you maybe…”

Danae tilts her head to one side. “Yes?”

“Wanted to go out sometime?” Amy asks in one breath.

Danae blinks at her. “Well, damn, and here I thought I was going to have to make the first move.”

Amy chuckles nervously. “Oh, uh, sorry to keep you waiting.”

“No apologies necessary. You free tomorrow?”

“Yes!” Amy replies, quick enough that Danae laughs.

“Cool.” Danae grabs a paper napkin from behind the counter and scrawls her number on it before passing it to Amy. 

Again Amy thinks of Hope as that familiar sense of victory washes over her. She feels another pang, maybe a bit of nostalgia, but she pushes it away, taking in the warm way Danae is regarding her.

(A few days later Amy texts Molly:

_so, turns out the tongue piercing is AWESOME_

_…or maybe it’s just her_ )


	3. Lilly

It’s been kind of a weird night.

Molly invited Amy to this party—in celebration of Jared’s birthday, thankfully not taking place on an empty boat—but Molly hasn’t really been present for most of the evening. This has been a recurring theme with her lately: an uncharacteristic distractedness. Amy isn’t concerned; the memory of everything that went down with Nick is still fresh enough that she’s pretty sure Molly is just nursing a crush on someone she thinks she shouldn’t like. Amy isn’t going to press her on it. She knows that Molly will open up when she’s ready.

Though in the here and now, Amy is mildly annoyed. Molly is physically here at the party but mentally distant. She’s been on her phone for half the night, leaving Amy to make small talk with their old classmates. Which wouldn’t be the worst thing, since she actually likes a lot of her former classmates, now.

Except that Amy’s slightly on edge herself. Because according to Molly, Hope is supposed to be here.

And in case anyone is asking, that’s _not_ the reason Amy came tonight.

Or, well, at least not the entire reason.

The party is at the huge home of Jared’s parents, who are off on some grand trip that Jared is pretending not to be sad that he wasn’t invited on. Thank god people actually showed up this time. The turnout isn’t enormous, but the house is at least moderately full. Amy suspects that this has less to do with Jared and more to do with everyone being home for the summer and eager to let loose.

Gigi is here, of course, carrying around a bullhorn and alternatively demanding that people wish Jared a happy birthday and yelling at him that the drinks aren’t strong enough.

Truly, some things never change.

Amy is glad to see Gigi, though. She’ll just make sure not to eat or drink anything that Gigi’s touched. 

Tanner and Theo manage to hotbox the master bathroom within the first hour of the party, leaving Jared to anxiously remove his hat three or four times while debating whether or not to kick them out.

Nick and Ryan aren’t here, which is probably for the best, all things considered, and neither is Annabelle. Amy half expects Ms. Fine to show up at some point, though if she’s being honest, she really only has the mental capacity to focus on the possible arrival of one person.

It’s not like she really has a plan, should Hope show up. But she decides to be prepared, nonetheless. Which is why she nurses one beer and then switches to sparkling water, not wanting to risk the possibility of tonight ending in vomit.

As the evening wears on, Amy begins to suspect that Hope isn’t going to show, until she hears a call of, “Amy!”

She whips around with lightening speed, but it isn’t Hope. Instead, Lilly Newman is coming toward her with a huge smile.

“Oh, hey Lilly,” Amy greets, trying to mask her disappointment.

Lilly’s blonde curls bounce over her shoulder. “I’m so glad to see you!”

She envelops Amy in a hug that goes on for one beat too many. Behind Lilly’s back, Molly looks up from her phone and raises an eyebrow.

“You are?” Amy asks, pulling back from the hug.

“Totally!” Lilly chirps, keeping a hand on Amy’s arm. Her movements are a little loose in the way of a person who’s on the edge of tipsy.

Amy studies Lilly for a moment. Lilly is a nice person, as far as Amy can recall. Pretty and sweet and generally inoffensive. The type of girl that Amy and Molly would have unfairly labelled as uninteresting.

“Hi Lilly,” Molly says.

“Molly, hi!” Lilly replies. “Nice to see you, too.” Her fingers stay on Amy’s wrist, and she doesn’t make a move to hug Molly.

“So, um, you having a nice summer?” Amy asks. She’s eager to get out of this interaction. Lilly’s energy is decidedly odd, a bit too chipper. Amy’s on a low-key mission tonight, and it doesn’t involve being lightly fondled by overeager former classmates.

Well, at least ones not named Hope.

“Yeah, an okay one,” Lilly replies. “Can we talk in private for a second?”

“Uh.” Amy narrows her eyes. This is the most she and Lilly have ever spoken, and now Lilly wants to talk to her in private?

“I promise I won’t murder you!” Lilly giggles.

Molly chokes on a laugh. “Well, that’s fucking reassuring.”

Amy is starting to think that there might be no way out of this except through. “Okay, quick chat,” she agrees.

Lilly keeps a grip on her arm, but Molly grabs Amy’s shoulder and whispers, “You text me ‘Malala’ and I’m there in two seconds, got it?”

Amy nods, gratefully, and follows Lilly through the party and upstairs. Lilly opens one of the doors—Amy wonders if she’s been here before—and they find themselves in what looks to be a guest bedroom. It feels like they just stepped into a fancy hotel. The bed is huge and covered in throw pillows, and the lighting is soft and glowing.

Lilly rakes a hand through her hair, looking more tense than she did downstairs.

“So, you okay?” Amy asks.

“I don’t know,” Lilly says quietly, sitting down on the bed.

Amy tentatively sits beside her. “Y’know, I can go get someone else. Maybe someone you know better? Like Claire or—”

And then suddenly Lilly has lurched across the bed and is kissing Amy. Like, seriously kissing her, with an open mouth and hands in Amy’s hair.

Amy pulls away in utter shock. “Whoa!”

Lilly looks like she might cry. “I’m sorry!”

“What—what was that?” Amy stammers, rubbing her fingers over her mouth.

Lilly sniffs, eyes wide, as though she’s just realized what she did. “I’m really sorry. That was so uncool. I—it’s been a confusing couple of months, and I always had a little crush on you, and seeing you here tonight—I don’t know…”

“You had a crush on me?” Amy says in disbelief.

Lilly nods. “I thought it was obvious. You’ve always been so awesome, Amy. And so pretty. I mean, _fuck_ , your cheekbones are incredible. But my family is weird about this kinda stuff, and college has been _really_ hard, and…” 

Lilly seems to be on the verge of hyperventilating, so Amy puts a hand on her knee. “Okay, okay, breathe.”

“I’m sorry,” Lilly repeats.

“I know.” Amy sighs. This is not at all how she thought this night would go. “Look, you don’t have to figure it all out at once. You can give yourself time to explore.”

“That’s the thing, though!” Lilly exclaims. “I don’t know _how_ to explore without leading someone on. What if I’m not into girls? But also, what if I am?”

Amy rolls her lips together. She wants to be out of this room, but she also has empathy for Lilly’s situation. She can clearly remember a time when she felt constantly overwhelmed by her own confusion.

“Do you want to try again?” Amy offers.

“What?”

Amy stares up at the ceiling, considering. “Look, I’m not, like, the lesbian oracle here, and I’m not saying that I want it to go any further than this, but if you want to kiss, no strings attached, and just get a sense—”

“Amy, you’re amazing!” Lilly interjects, beaming.

Amy doesn’t know if that’s true. She isn’t sure if what she’s doing is morally sound or not, or even which one of them is benefiting here. But it doesn’t feel like she’s taking advantage of Lilly—she’s not even _into_ Lilly, not like that—and neither one of them is irresponsibly drunk. And if somebody had offered her this chance at fifteen, well, Amy probably would have been way too nervous to take it, but she would have been appreciative.

Besides, she really wants this conversation to be over.

She nods, and Lilly smiles and leans in, slower this time. The kiss is sweet at first and then shifts to sloppy as Lilly opens her mouth again. Amy is getting ready to gently push her away when she hears the words, _“Oh fuck!”_

The door swings open and a figure stands at the threshold. When Amy’s eyes adjust to the light, she sees that it’s Hope.

_Of course._

“Hi,” Amy breathes out, quickly putting some space between her body and Lilly’s. 

Hope crosses her arms. “Um, hi. I'm—gonna go.”

“No!” Amy exclaims, standing up without a real sense of direction. She turns to Lilly, who looks a little dazed. “You okay?”

That seems to take a second to register before Lilly nods. “Yeah.” Lilly looks up at the doorway, then at Amy, who knows her own eyes have drifted back to Hope.

“I should, uh, get back,” Lilly says.

Amy forces her attention back to Lilly. “You sure you’re okay?”

Lilly nods. “Yes.” Amy believes her. Or maybe she just wants to. “Thanks for everything.”

“You know you can text me if you need to talk. Molly can give you my number,” Amy replies.

She thinks she hears Hope snort. “And I do just mean talk,” Amy clarifies, a bit louder. 

“You sure?” Lilly asks expectantly.

Oh god. Amy might have screwed up on this one.

“Yes. As friends.”

Lilly glances between Amy and Hope once more, like she’s figuring something out. Maybe there are rumors about the two of them or maybe Lilly is more perceptive than Amy gave her credit for.

“As friends,” Lilly confirms. She stands up and slips out of the room, giving Hope a wide berth as she passes by.

“Do you want to come in?” Amy asks, wiping her mouth.

As always, off to a _great_ start.

Hope hesitates for a second before fulling stepping into the room. Now Amy can take in her appearance, and she feels her breath catch. Hope has traded out her fringe jacket for what Amy prays is a vegan leather one, but otherwise she looks pretty much the same.

Which is to say, startlingly beautiful in a simple T-shirt, jeans, and a ponytail.

Amy kind of wants to hug Hope, but she isn’t sure how that would go over, so she shoves her hands in her pockets instead.

“You do get around at parties,” Hope remarks.

Amy sighs. “This wasn’t like that.”

“Offering up your number? Very smooth.”

“She’s going through a hard time and trying to figure some things out,” Amy explains.

“Clearly figuring it out with your mouth.” Her tone is somewhere between sharp and teasing.

“It didn’t mean anything,” Amy tells her. “Not to me, at least.” She isn’t quite sure how this conversation is going to proceed, but she sits back down on the bed, grateful when Hope follows suit.

“Whatever.”

Amy wants to push her on that, to ask why it would even matter to Hope, when they haven’t seen one another in almost two years. It could be Hope being Hope, she recognizes; a bit mean for mean’s sake, pushing to get a reaction.

Or it could be deeper and a little more Amy-specific.

Hope might, in fact, be jealous.

“I hoped I’d see you here tonight,” Amy admits. “And that’s not, like, a joke about your name. I looked for you all night. I even checked the bathroom.”

That, at least, earns her a chuckle. “I make sure to lock the doors now.”

The comment seems to soften the energy between them. Amy lets herself really look into Hope’s eyes, and she sees warmth there, buried underneath the attitude Hope is trying to project.

“How are you?” Amy asks.

“Pretty good,” Hope replies. “Bennington is a nice fit.”

“You ended up taking a gap year too, right?” Amy asks, as if she doesn’t already know the answer.

Hope nods. “Yeah. It was the right decision. What about you?”

“I’m good,” Amy replies. “Y’know, school’s busy and life’s busy and… now I’m home.” It’s not her most eloquent response, to be sure, but Hope doesn’t seem to mind.

“Yeah. Always kinda weird to be back, huh?”

Amy wonders what she means by that. It’s a true statement, and also one that’s potentially loaded. Especially considering that the last time they were alone in a room together, they were practically naked.

Amy shudders at the memory. Everything felt so, so good, right up until it didn’t.

“Are you here for the whole summer?”

Hope shakes her head. “I leave in a few days for a week in Venice, and then I’m working the rest of the summer back east.”

Amy lets out an impressed breath. “Wow, Venice. That’s awesome.”

“Yeah, gotta get there before it’s entirety underwater. What about you?”

“I head back to New York next week. I’m interning at the U.N.”

“Of course you are,” Hope replies. She rolls her eyes in a fond sort of way that makes Amy’s stomach jolt. Though there’s something about her expression that also makes Amy think that Hope might be a little disappointed. Like maybe if Amy didn’t have plans, she’d invite her along to Venice.

Which is an absolutely ridiculous thought. Sure, they shared one weirdly intimate night, but they’re basically strangers.

Even if it doesn’t really feel that way.

“I hoped I’d see you, too,” Hope adds, quietly. “Gotta say, this isn’t how I expected to find you.”

Amy chuckles. “Wasn’t how I expected to find myself, either.”

“And yet,” Hope says. “Here we are.”

Hope holds her gaze for a few long seconds. They’re close on the bed, as close as Amy and Lilly were. One of them could so easily lean in the rest of the way and close the distance that’s been between them all this time.

Amy glances between Hope’s eyes and her lips, feels Hope’s eyes mirroring her actions. She _wants_ to.

But it’s been such a strange night already, and the last thing they need is another weird party experience to screw things up further.

“You still have my number, right?” Amy asks.

Hope nods. “Yeah, why?”

“I think maybe, um,” Amy fumbles, searching for the least awkward way to say what she means. “You should use it.”

Hope’s smile blooms slowly. “Okay,” she agrees. “I will.”

“Cool,” Amy replies, biting her lip. “I should—” She forces herself to stand up and gestures to the door.

Hope regards her from the bed for another second before standing up herself, and they walk back downstairs together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof, that one was long, y'all! Also, not that it really matters, but Lilly is meant to be the blonde girl wearing lipstick at Nick's party that we see in the crowd right before Amy creates the diversion.


	4. Grace

**Hope** : _consider this me officially “using” your number_

 **Amy** : _Hi! It’s so good to hear from you!_

**Hope** _:_ _how's the un?  
_

**Amy** : _Super busy, but rewarding. Mostly. How’s Venice??_

 **Hope** : _beautiful. Pretty magical_

 **Amy** : _Wow, coming from you I feel like that really means something._

 **Amy** : _Send pictures!_

 **Hope** : _I will. Kinda wish I wasn’t here alone, though_

 **Hope** : _which I know is stupid_

 **Amy** : _Not stupid. I understand. But you’re not alone. You’ve got me in your pocket! Lol_

 **Amy** : _Ok, wait ignore that_

 **Hope** : _yr small enough you could prob fit_

 **Amy** : _Oh, I meant like on your phone. Cuz we’re texting_

 **Hope** : _yeah I get it Amy_

 **Amy** : _Cool. Sorry_

 **Hope** : _what are you working on at the un?_

 **Amy** : _Honestly a lot of research/getting coffee. But it feels close to big stuff, if that makes sense_

 **Hope** : _yeah, it does_

 **Amy** : _what’s your favorite part of Venice?_

 **Hope** : _hard to describe._

 **Amy** : _I’ve got time. :)_

\--

At the beginning of her sophomore year Amy gets a job at an off-campus bookstore frequented by the Columbia student body. She really loves her job: she loves being around the books, loves the routine and organization of her day, loves making a little money. And her most regular coworker, Grace, is awesome.

Grace is the type of person who seems serious until you get to know her. She’s also a student at Columbia, a year above Amy. Her parents immigrated from Vietnam when Grace was just a baby, but they moved back about a year ago to care for her grandmother, leaving Grace here in the States without any family. Amy can’t even imagine how lonely Grace must be, and she’s in awe of Grace’s strength.

And her general cuteness, funniness, and intelligence. Grace is shorter than Amy, with straight-across bangs that are always a little too long. She has a unique sense of style—bulky sweaters over bright patterned leggings, vintage dresses that would look more at home in the ’40’s—but it somehow works for her. She’s bold, in a quiet way, which Amy can respect.

The book store has an old computer system that allows employees to write little notes about customers’ accounts. The notes are supposed to be strictly related to the finances of the accounts, since students are allowed to preload with a certain amount of money. But Grace doesn’t exactly follow the rules. Her commentary runs the gamut:

_“Smells like tuna fish always. How? And why?"_

_“Attempted to mansplain the fucking Handmaid’s Tale to me. Steer clear.”_

_“Has a Blue Lives Matter bumpersticker. Recommend any book on police brutality to see her face turn purple.”_

Amy frequently has to turn away from customers to keep from laughing as she checks them out.

She likes Grace, as a friend, but there’s a vibe there as well. Grace is openly pansexual, and Amy definitely feels like their interactions have started to tip over into slightly flirtatious.

Amy would be totally into it if it weren’t for the Hope of it all.

Which is to say nothing, really. They’ve been texting some since the summer, but that’s it. Maybe they’re becoming friends. Amy could be totally happy with them being friends.

Though she’d have an easier time believing that if she could get Hope out of her mind for any significant length of time.

\--

 **Amy** : [picture of her holding up a brown, fringy jacket at a consignment store]

 **Amy** : _Should I go as you for Halloween???_

 **Hope** : _I think you’d need stilts_

 **Amy** : _Lol you’re right. How are you?_

 **Hope** : _Pretty good. Been taking lots of photos_

 **Amy** : _Oh?_

 **Hope** : _Yeah I’m studying photography. Liking it a lot. How bout u?_

 **Amy** : _That’s awesome! I’d love to see some of your work if you feel like sharing._

 **Amy** : _I’m good too. A little worn out. Working a lot. And this gender studies stuff is fascinating and important but a lot emotionally._

 **Amy** : _Which is a very privileged thing to be able to say, btw_

 **Hope** : _I bet. You having any fun?_

 **Amy** : _Yeah I’m part of a book club and a stitch n bitch_

 **Hope** : _You party animal_

 **Amy** : _It’s actually fun!_

 **Hope** : _I’m sure it is_

 **Hope** : _nerd_

 **Amy** : _What about you?_

 **Hope** : _I’m having plenty of fun_

 **Amy** : _…what kind?_

 **Hope** : _are you asking if I’m getting laid?_

 **Amy** : _No!! That’s none of my business!_

 **Hope** : _I’m fucking with you_

 **Amy** : _Sorry if it came out that way_

 **Hope** : _Amy yr fine_

 **Hope** : _I’m not, btw_

 **Hope** : _in case you were wondering_

 **Amy** : _Ok. You didn’t have to tell me_

 **Hope** : _I know_

 **Hope** : _I wanted to_

\--

Molly comes for another visit. She says that she has news, which Amy has been expecting for months. They go for a walk around the Columbia campus and find a quiet spot to sit.

“So, I’m dating someone,” Molly starts off, looking vaguely freaked out. “Pretty much the last person I _ever_ expected to be dating, and I’m ready to tell you, finally.”

“Okay.” Amy squeezes her hand. “You know nothing you tell me is going to change anything, right?”

Molly nods. “Yeah. Um, it’s Annabelle.”

Amy is taken aback for all of two seconds as she processes that information. She’s surprised, but also not. Now that she thinks about it, Molly talked about Annabelle a lot when they first started at Yale, only for the mentions to stop cold right before the summer. They’re both smart, and funny, and determined. Amy kind of can’t believe she didn’t see this one coming.

“That’s great, Mol,” Amy assures her. “Does she make you happy?”

Molly exhales gratefully. “Yeah. Like, _a lot_. Honestly it’s kinda thrown me off my game. Y’know, I was going down this one path, and I just never thought…” She trails off, smiling. “But here I am.”

Amy grins. “Freaking awesome, dude! I’m so happy for you. She’s very lucky to have you.”

“Thanks.” Molly pulls her into a hug. “I love you so much!”

“I love _you_ so much!”

Amy has to work later that day so she takes Molly over to the bookstore. Grace is already working, and her eyes get bright when Amy walks in.

“Thank god you’re here,” Grace calls across the counter. “This day has been shit. Utter, absolute dog shit.”

“Oh no!” Amy hustles over to the counter. “What’s wrong?”

Grace smirks. “Nothing, really. Just wanted you to feel important. Who’s your friend?”

Amy introduces the two of them. “I’ve heard a lot about you,” Grace tell Molly. “You’re kind of famous around here.”

“Wow!” Molly nudges Amy’s side. “Famous, huh?”

“Good famous,” Amy promises. “Much more Elizabeth Warren than Elizabeth Holmes.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear _that._ ”

“And we happen to have fascinating books about them both!” Grace remarks. She turns to Amy. “It’s actually kind of a slow day, so it’s fine with me if your friend wants to hang out. I’m gonna go grab some labels from the back.”

“I like her,” Molly says when Grace has walked away. “How come I haven’t heard about her?”

Amy shrugs. “I don’t know. I like her, too.”

“ _But_ ,” Molly prompts. “I feel like there’s a big, Kardashian-sized ‘but’ on the end of that statement.”

Amy flaps a hand vaguely. “Y’know, we work together. Don’t shit where you eat, and all that.”

“ _And_?” Molly narrows her eyes.

Amy sighs. “You probably have a few ideas about what else.”

“Not a few,” Molly corrects. “Just one. Starting and ending with a girl whose butthole you happen to be _very_ familiar with.”

“This is never going to end, is it?” Amy asks.

“My teasing, or your feelings for her?”

Amy realizes when she hears the question that she isn’t entirely sure what she meant. “Either, I guess.”

“First part, never. Second part?” Molly pats her shoulder. “Sorry, babe. Think only you can answer that one.”

\--

 **Hope** : _hey I’ve been meaning to mention something_

 **Amy** : _Everything ok?_

 **Hope** : _That night at Jared’s_

 **Hope** : _It was really cool how you helped Lilly_

 **Amy** : _Oh wow that was a while ago. What brought that up?_

 **Hope** : _Just reflecting._

 **Amy** : _I don’t know how cool it was. It was a strange experience_

 **Hope** : _she needed someone to listen and you were there for her. That was cool of you_

 **Amy** : _Thanks. That means a lot to hear_

 **Hope** : _plus apparently she came out as bi and has a girlfriend now_

 **Amy** : _Really? That’s awesome!_

 **Amy** : _Ofc she has a girlfriend and I don’t._

 **Amy** : _Sorry weird comment_

 **Hope** : _I’m single too, so…_

 **Amy** : _How is that even possible? You should have people knocking down your door_

 **Amy** : _I mean in a consensual way_

 **Hope** : _lone wolf out here_

 **Amy** : _Not forever I hope_

 **Hope** : _oh yeah? what’s that mean?_

 **Amy** : _how cold is it there?_

 **Hope** : _haha nice pivot_

\--

Two weeks before Christmas, a huge order comes in late to the bookstore, and Amy and Grace have to work past midnight every night for nearly a week to get the books on the shelves. It’s a frantic few days, made more chaotic by reports of a giant winter storm preparing to engulf the East Coast.

Amy practically breaks down crying when they finally get everything done. It’s almost one in the morning, but she’s been so exhausted and stressed out that she’s barely even aware of the time.

Grace is wrung out, too, but handling it better. “We did it!” she exclaims, smacking the last stack of books in celebration. “I can’t fucking believe it. Where’s the champagne when we need it?”

Amy shakes her head, chuckling. “I think Gavin left some grape juice in the back of the fridge. Maybe it’s fermented into wine by now.”

Grace grins. “I’ll go check. Unless you want to go home?”

Amy shrugs. She’s so tired, but wired as well. She doesn’t think she’d be able to sleep. “I’ll hang out for a bit.”

Grace finds the old bottle of juice and cracks it open. She takes a swig, swishing the liquid in her mouth before handing it to Amy, who sniffs it.

“It won’t kill you,” Grace tells her.

“It’s definitely past its expiration date,” Amy points out.

“It tastes fine.”

Amy tentatively takes a sip, and she has to admit that the juice is completely inoffensive. She’s not a huge fan of grape juice, but she gets that it’s more ceremonial than anything, at this point.

“Wild couple of days, huh?” Grace asks. They’re still on the floor surrounded by boxes, backs pressed against the bottom part of the counter.

“Totally,” Amy agrees.

“Glad I got to handle this shitstorm with you, though,” Grace says softly.

“Me too.”

Amy looks over at Grace, who’s smiling at her a bit shyly. Amy thinks that Grace might lean in for a kiss, but instead Grace hops up. “Hey, I want to show you something,” she tells Amy.

They walk back behind the counter to the computer. Grace presses a few keys and pulls up Amy’s old account, the one she used before she got an employee one. She’s never actually seen it before.

“Look,” Grace says. She points to the screen, where Amy can see the comment box opened. Inside it reads:

_"So cute and so smart. Wow."_

Amy raises an eyebrow. “You wrote that?”

“Well, it wasn’t Gavin.”

Amy exhales. “That’s…that’s amazing.” She turns to Grace, whose gaze is hopeful.

Whatever’s between them could be so great, Amy knows. And easy, too. Grace is right here, and clearly likes her, and there’s zero baggage or awkward bathroom encounters between them.

Amy leans forward and kisses Grace. Grace responds in kind, pulling Amy closer, leaning up on her tiptoes for a better angle. Amy wraps her arms around Grace’s small waist, sliding her mouth against Grace’s, searching for the feeling that she so badly wants to experience.

Amy pulls away first. Grace blinks up at her. “Been waiting for that,” she breathes.

Amy smiles tightly. The kiss was nice. Better than nice. Grace is absolutely wonderful, and would probably be a terrific partner.

But, _god_ , she isn’t Hope.

\--

 **Amy** : _This storm is insane!_

 **Amy** : _wait, scratch that, trying not to use ableist language_

 **Amy** : _This storm is bizarre!_

 **Hope** : _agreed. Is your flight home grounded?_

 **Amy** : _Yeah, I was only going home for a few days anyway so looks like I’m stuck here_

 **Hope** : _Me too_

 **Amy** : _Toto I don’t think we’re in Cali anymore_

 **Hope** : _#eastcoastxmas_

 **Hope** : _Is your wife around?_

 **Amy** : _She’s gone for a few weeks. Scoping out grad school in Switzerland_

 **Hope** : _Of course she is_

 **Hope** : _storm’s supposed to pass the day after xmas wtf_

 **Amy** : _I’m sure the religious right has all sorts of ideas about that timing_

 **Hope** : _lol_

 **Amy** : _What are you gonna do?_

 **Hope** : _for xmas? prob just camp out w/ pizza and beer. U?_

 **Amy** : _Don’t know yet_

 **Amy** : _You up for some company?_

 **Hope** : _seriously?_

 **Amy** : _Maybe not. Might not be a good idea_

 **Hope** : _because you might die trying to get here, or…_

 **Hope** : _I’d love company_

 **Hope** : _More specifically yr company_

 **Amy** : _ok. I’m not sure if I can make that happen_

 **Amy** : _not even sure why I suggested it_

 **Hope** : _can’t answer that for u. no pressure either way. But I’m here_

 **Amy** : _ok. I’ll be in touch_

_ \-- _

Amy sits in her car, breathing deeply. The snow is still falling heavily, but it’s not a total blizzard anymore. It’s nearly five pm, already starting to get dark.

It’s Christmas Eve, and Amy is contemplating a truly wild move.

She picks up her cell and calls Molly. It’s eleven pm in Switzerland, and Molly will still be awake. Though even if she wasn’t, Amy would still call.

“I need a reality check,” Amy says by way of greeting.

“Okay. Shoot.” That’s why Amy loves Molly, because she’s right there, no adjustments needed.

“I’m sitting in my car on Christmas Eve on a twenty-three degree day, debating driving four hours to Vermont to see Hope,” Amy says in a rush.

Molly exhales noisily. “Wow. That’s a lot.”

Amy bangs her head against her window. “Why am I here, Mol? I could snuggled up near a fire with Grace right now.”

“But you didn’t like Grace,” Molly points out. “Not the way you like Hope. Right?”

“I have no reason to,” Amy groans. “I mean, we don’t have much in common, and we don’t even really know each other!”

“Maybe you don’t need a reason.”

“Excuse me, can you put Molly on the phone, please?”

Molly chuckles. “Look, I’m just saying, I spent so much time trying to talk myself out of liking Nick, and going around and around with myself about it. It was _exhausting_. And maybe he didn’t like me the way I wanted him to, but I realized after that that sometimes we just have to let ourselves want what we want.”

“You’re so wise,” Amy comments.

“Of course I am,” Molly agrees. “If what I have with Annabelle has taught me anything, it’s that it doesn’t all have to make sense. You don’t need to build a court case for your feelings. You really like Hope, right?”

Amy sighs. She’s gotten this far, there’s no point in denying it, now. “A frustrating amount,” she admits.

“And she _clearly_ likes you. Why give up on that?”

“If I die in a blizzard, my ghost is going to haunt you,” Amy says.

“Amy, it was a sure thing a long time ago that whichever one of us dies first will be haunting the survivor from the afterlife.”

After they hang up, Amy sits in her car for a long time. She can own up to her fear, partially about driving in this weather, but mostly about Hope. 

There are so many unknowns, here. This gesture or big move or _whatever_ she’s doing is almost certainly a bad idea.

She really shouldn’t do it. She should go inside. Go to bed and FaceTime her parents tomorrow morning for Christmas.

It’s the responsible choice. Maybe even the right choice.

Amy starts driving instead.


	5. Hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we have the conclusion of this story. I did not expect this fic to be this long, nor did I expect to get so invested in writing it! But this universe has been so much to inhabit, and I really appreciate everyone who took the time to leave a kudos/comment. :)

By the time Amy pulls into the parking lot of Hope’s off-campus apartment, she’s an absolute wreck.

It’s nearly ten pm ( _“two hours ’till Christmas”_ her internal child can’t help but chant) and the further north she’s driven, the heavier the snow has fallen. She’s been sweating non-stop—both from the treacherous nature of the trip and the anticipation of who’s waiting on the other side of it—but the sweat keeps drying on her skin, leaving her clammy and freezing. The CD player in her used Subaru is broken, and she wasn’t about to waste precious battery life by listening to anything off her phone, so she’s had only her loud, anxious thoughts to keep her company the entire drive. Somewhere near Kingston she started talking to the car, begging it to get the two of them to Hope in one piece. Somewhere near Albany she actually started expecting the damn thing to respond.

Basically, Amy is pretty sure she’s losing her mind. She made it all the way to Africa and back, but this somehow feels like the greatest journey of her life.

And then suddenly she’s there. It doesn’t even seem possible. She parks her car, turns off the engine, lifts the duffel bag she haphazardly packed in ten minutes out of the back seat. It’s snowing hard enough that her eyelashes feel heavy. She’s thankful for the string of lights tacked up on Hope’s building, because otherwise it’s so quiet and dark out here that she thinks she could probably trip in the snow and no one would find her for days. There doesn’t seem to be a soul around.

Wait, scratch that. As Amy approaches the building, she notices a figure standing by the main door, and when she gets closer she sees that it’s Hope. Watching Amy walk up with her arms folded, leaning against the doorframe in a way that would be infuriatingly casual if it was anyone else.

“You’re here,” Hope says simply once Amy is close. It’s still dark, but Amy can see her fully now. Hope’s cheeks are pink and she has a gray blanket draped over her sweatshirt and leggings. Amy wonders how long she’s been out here.

“I’m here,” Amy replies, shaking her shoulders in an attempt to get rid of the snow that’s already collected on her thick coat. “Um, Merry Christmas.”

Hope grins and takes a step forward, pulling Amy into a hug. The action nearly knocks Amy off balance, but she recovers, letting her duffel bag drop so that she can hug Hope back.

“I’m kinda gross,” Amy cautions.

“Not to me.” Hope holds her there tightly and Amy lets herself relax, breathing in the scent of Hope’s hair in what she hopes isn’t an obvious way. They don’t know each other well enough for the smell to be familiar, exactly, but it is undeniably comforting.

When they pull apart Hope takes Amy’s hand. “C’mon, let’s get you inside.” Hope leads her into the building and up a narrow staircase. She unlocks the first door on the left.

“It’s small,” Hope warns as they go inside the apartment. “But I didn’t want roommates, so…”

Amy likes the energy of the space immediately. It is small, basically a studio, but it feels lived in, like Hope’s made a real home here. The overhead lights are turned off and the lamps all have thin fabric over them, giving the room a soft, hazy glow. Behind the red couch is a table with a record player and a collection of records on it, and propped next to the table is an old-looking acoustic guitar. A TV mounted on the opposite wall is playing a video of a roaring fireplace. There’s a stout cactus in a pot beside the window, and a collection of tapestries—Amy guesses from Hope’s various travels—pinned to the ceiling above the bed.

“This is great,” Amy says, genuinely.

The corner of Hope’s mouth twitches, as though that remark coming from Amy might mean something. “Thank you. You can put your stuff down wherever.”

“Oh, thanks.” It’s then that Amy realizes how she must look, her clothes more than a little soggy, her body covered in sweat and snow. “Would it actually be okay if I freshened up?”

Hope briefly looks her up and down before nodding. “Of course. Bathroom’s right there.” She points to a skinny door in the corner and Amy makes a quick exit, bringing her duffel bag along.

She peels off her coat and sweatshirt, which both seem unsalvageable and—hopefully— unnecessary for the rest of this night. Standing in her loose teal T-shirt and jeans, Amy studies her reflection. She doesn’t look too terrible, though she doesn’t look her best.

She shakes her head. There’s a certain symmetry to all of this. Here she finds herself in another bathroom, damp and messy and trying to pull herself together, while Hope waits perfectly a few feet away.

But she’s not that same girl crying in the bathroom at Nick’s party. She’s changed, and she wants to show Hope just how much.

Amy tugs her hair back into a bun and straightens her shirt. She splashes some water on the back of her neck and her cheeks, and digs around in her bag until she can find deodorant and chapstick to reapply.

She gives herself another once over. Not a perfect fix, but it’ll have to do.

When Amy walks back out of the bathroom, Hope is standing in the tiny kitchen, transferring two pizza slices out of the box and onto a plastic plate. She smiles when she sees Amy. “Figured you might be hungry,” she says, offering the plate to Amy. “It’s not vegan, but it’s vegetarian. Is that okay?”

Amy nods, recognizing just how starving she is once she smells the food. “It’s great. I’ve relaxed on that a bit. Thank you.”

“Cool.” Hope motions toward the couch. “You can sit. Want something to drink? Beer, wine, I think I have vodka…?”

Amy raises an eyebrow. “You got a bar back there?”

“Well, some of us actually put our fake I.D.s to good use,” Hope replies without a trace of malice.

“Excuse me, the college library was an extremely good use of a fake I.D!” Amy replies.

Something lights up in Hope’s eyes, like maybe she’s pleased that Amy is pushing back a bit. 

“Um, water’s fine,” Amy adds.

Hope nods, filling a mason jar with water and bringing it over to the couch. She sits beside Amy. “Go ahead,” Hope tells her. “I already ate.”

Amy tries to be delicate about eating, but she’s so hungry and the pizza—despite being lukewarm—is delicious. She practically inhales her food, as Hope looks on with amusement.

“I was kind of in a rush out the door,” Amy says by way of explanation, wiping her mouth with the paper napkin Hope has provided her.

“I got that.” Hope props her elbow on the back of the couch and leans against it. “I still can’t believe you’re here.”

Amy finishes chewing the food in her mouth before replying, “Yeah, me neither. Is it, um, okay?”

“Amy, _yes_. You asked, and I said I wanted you here.”

“I know,” Amy acknowledges.

“I’m just glad that you arrived in one piece.” Hope tilts her head toward the window. “You really leveled up the lesbianism with that Subaru out there.”

Amy chuckles. “The all-wheel drive definitely came in handy tonight.”

“I bet. Though I do kind of miss the bumperstickers.”

Amy’s stomach jolts at the thought of Hope having noticed her bumperstickers before. “There are a few on there. They just got a little buried in snow.”

“Ah.” Hope tucks her legs up under her in a way that Amy finds bizarrely cute. “So, what would you be doing if you were home?”

“Oh, midnight mass with my folks,” Amy replies. “Then an early breakfast tomorrow morning before all the relatives arrived for charades and presents and a five-hour dinner. I’d try to sneak off at some point to FaceTime Molly. Or see her, if she was in town.”

Hope’s eyebrows shoot up. “Wow. Sounds exhausting.”

“It would be,” Amy confirms. “What about you? Is Christmas a big deal for your family?”

Hope shakes her head. “Not since my parents got divorced. I’d usually spend Christmas Eve with my mom and Christmas Day with my dad, but nobody has much to say to each other. Just like most days.”

“I understand,” Amy says softly. Over the past few months of texting she’s learned in bits and pieces about Hope’s family, her main takeaway being that Hope doesn’t particularly enjoy talking about them.

“Anyway,” Hope adds, “I like this more.”

Amy feels herself blush. “Yeah,” she manages to get out. “Me too.”

Hope’s gaze on her is so steady that Amy starts to squirm. She likes that Hope doesn’t feel the need to fill every silence with smalltalk, but she also knows that they have a few things to discuss.

Amy sets her plate down on the coffee table. She glances up at the fireplace on the TV, which somehow makes the room seem cozier, despite it not providing any warmth.

“Um,” Amy begins.

“Yes?” Hope prompts teasingly.

“Aren’t you going to ask why I came here?”

Hope scrunches her forehead up. “Do you want me to?”

“It’s just.” Amy sighs. “I guess if the situation was reversed, I’d wonder what possessed you to come all this way.” She hears how that sounds and her eyes go wide. “Which is _not_ to imply, of course, that you’re, like, not worth it, or that there’s some expectation by me coming here. I mean, obviously, I’m here because of, well… _you_.”

Hope bites her lip. “I thought you just wanted to visit Vermont at its most hazardous time of year?”

“That too,” Amy exhales, grateful for the joke.

Hope shifts on the couch, her expression turning serious. “I guess the reason didn’t matter to me. Or maybe I didn’t want it to.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just, like. If you were here because you were lonely, I’d understand.”

Amy shakes her head. “I’m not. At all.”

“Okay, cool.” Hope offers a small smile, then hesitates, as though she wants to say more. “I think I got so used to feeling like…”

“What?”

Hope shrugs. “Like I wanted you too much. And now I’m finally stopping and realizing that you want _me_ back. Like the actual me.”

Amy’s head starts spinning at Hope’s words. The breath in her lungs seems to stutter its way out, leaving her slack-jawed and gaping.

Hope rolls her eyes. “C’mon, Amy. Is it really that shocking that I’ve liked you for forever?”

“I— _yeah_ ,” Amy manages. “I mean, kind of.”

“I’ve basically been pulling your pigtails since sophomore year,” Hope points out. “Which yes, I know is problematic in nature, so you can hold off on the lecture. I didn’t even know I was doing it for the longest time.”

Amy exhales in disbelief. “I have so much more to learn about you.”

“Hope I haven’t scared you off.”

“The opposite,” Amy assures her. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you, and now I’m just…” She trails off, unable to find the words to express how she feels in this moment.

Hope _wants_ her. Has wanted her, by the sounds of it, for a long while. Suddenly all of the complications and baggage and distance that Amy’s been mulling over seem completely unimportant.

“I’m so glad I’m here,” she settles on.

“I am too.” Hope’s teeth slide over her bottom lip again, and Amy is completely transfixed. She can feel Hope’s eyes fixed on her own mouth. The flush that’s been warming Amy’s face for the entirety of this conversation seems to spread, the rest of her skin starting to feel hot and prickly in a way that’s decidedly more pleasant than how she felt back in the car.

Amy shifts up on her knees so that she’s completely facing Hope. “I should tell you,” she says softly. “I’m a lot better at this stuff than I was.” She winces. “Okay, ‘a lot’ might be a bit extreme—although there was really nowhere to go but up—but, like, I know what I’m doing. Mostly.”

Hope chuckles, her eyes beaming. “I’m glad to hear that.”

“ _Not_ that I’m assuming what’s about to happen,” Amy adds.

Hope tilts her head to the side. “I dunno. I think it’s a fair assumption. Did you really come all this way to just _talk_?”

Amy’s attempt to process a response to that must be obvious, because Hope tacks on, “I’m completely fucking with you.”

“Right.”

“I’m going to kiss you now, okay?”

Amy nods so vigorously that her head is still moving by the time Hope’s lips touch hers. Hope slips her fingers into the loose hair falling out of Amy’s bun and opens her mouth, kissing Amy like they have all the time in the world, like this is just the start.

Amy kisses back hungrily, her fingers sliding up the back of Hope’s neck. When she accidentally scrapes Hope’s skin with her fingernail Hope moans into her mouth, so Amy does it again, gently. Hope responds by trailing her hands down Amy’s sides and down to her hips, guiding them upward, and Amy rises up just enough so that she can straddle Hope, continuing to kiss her all the while.

They eventually come up for air, panting. Amy presses her forehead against Hope’s and starts to giggle, in spite of herself.

“What’s funny?” Hope asks, brushing a strand of hair off Amy’s cheek.

“I’m sorry,” Amy says, trying to steady herself. She’s sure that it’s just the many emotions of the day finally catching up to her. Hope runs a hand along her back in a manner that Amy knows is meant to be soothing but still leaves Amy with goosebumps.

“I just,” she stammers. “It’s Christmas, almost. And I showed up without any gifts. How rude am I?”

“Amy,” Hope says with a startling amount of tenderness. “Believe me when I say that you being here is the best fucking Christmas present of my life.”

“Yeah?”

Hope nods. “And I have two parents who think that buying things equals love, so you’ve got some stiff competition.”

Amy’s heart squeezes tighter. She goes in to kiss Hope again, but Hope stops her by adding, “Also, y’know, orgasms are pretty great presents too, so…”

Amy laughs. “I think that’s a gift I can afford this year.”

Hope smirks. “Merry Christmas to me.”

\--

Much later, well past midnight, it occurs to Amy that this is her first Christmas away from California, away from her parents, away from Molly.

That’s significant. She should probably feel sad, or nostalgic, or wistful.

But then Hope pulls her close and kisses her shoulder, and all Amy can feel is that she’s home.

(She wakes up to eight texts from Molly, mostly some variation on: _WTH HAPPENED??!!!_

Amy laughs and goes out to her car to call Molly, knowing that it’s all too big to explain over text. A lot has transpired in the last twelve hours, experiences that Amy will remember forever. It seems like everything has changed, in the best way. She has so much to tell Molly.

She can’t wait to start.)


End file.
